


Blessed Be

by ivelkundeath



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Solitude and Isolation, Trigger Warnings, Violence, Witchcraft, dark themes, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelkundeath/pseuds/ivelkundeath
Summary: Pious Kings and Lords send their soldiers to hunt those whose very existence blashpeme their Gods, but the crusade cares not if magick truly runs through your veins. Only of the will of their ruler. And the godless and exiled care just the same. A vision compels her to return to Schnee estate in the province of Atlesia, but to what end is her suffering when her blessing is a curse?
Relationships: Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something fantastical because real world/normal world AUs are burning me out.
> 
> Here's my witchy fantasy infused with all my darkness.
> 
> Trigger Warning:
> 
> Violent Themes  
> Implied Non-Consensual Sexual Content

Despite the disrepair and squalor the estate now found itself in, the halls were still haunted by phantasms of a time when life once filled them with warmth and whispers of love. The ornate walls stood thick with dust and decay; a candelabra lay rusted and broken on the floor, and tattered remains of curtains hung precariously over broken windows like funeral cloths. She haunted these halls too, a myth of existence lost to time atop deeply wooded foothills. A distant Lord had seized the lands and forbade its resettlement after _Atlesia_ was razed to the ground. The land was _sacrilegious. Witches_ had resided here.

 _Piety_ and devotion to their monarch are what drove the Lord's soldiers to slaughter. Men, women, children. _Thousands_ died. Those who survived the massacre were put on trial, either victim of the noose or victim of the hastily and poorly assembled guillotine. The latter suffered worse. But a particular execution was saved for the Sovereign of _Atlesia,_ and her curdling screams cursed the lands and the Lord as her flesh burned from her bones at the stake.

_Jacques Du Pont will know my vengeance, and his children will bear witness to his sins! My ashes will claim these lands, and here, my children, no harm will they ever know from Him!_

They had watched their mother burn, heard her curses as they crouched hidden in a distant wood, sisters stilled by the blaze that engulfed their mother and orphaned them in the waning sunlight. She had been quick to act, their mother, ushering them down a hidden passageway that inevitably led them far beyond the yard before the soldiers came for her. She could still remember the smell of her mother's burning flesh, seared into her memory so as Winter held her hand over her mouth to stifle the desperate cries of hers as a child. She was forced to watch helplessly as her mother died, forced to breath in the stench of her death. Now she couldn't entertain any memory of her mother without that _terrible_ smell eroding away her sinuses.

She remembers riding on horseback, settled at her sister's front. She remembers the galloping of the steed wasn't loud enough to drown out her sister's frantic panting as they fled. She remembers the hot tear that would occasionally burn on her too cold flesh as they rode through the snow.

She remembers her sister never coming back.

" _Enough of this!"_

The glass in her hand shattered, slammed into the table as she scolded herself. Her life was wretched enough without her mind traversing the annals of her tragic history in self-torment. Though perhaps it was that she was still excruciatingly _pained_ despite the near decades wedged between herself at present and her miserable past. Her hand bled freely, mixing too well with the red wine that spread across the table. She would know this physical pain, for now, instead. She made a fist and clenched, agitating her wound and stifling enraged and vulnerable tears. If Winter were to see her now in her misery, made weak when she had encouraged her to remain _strong._

Her sister had vanished from her six years ago with a smile and promises to return soon with more medicine to ease her. She was seventeen then, the age Winter was when they rode from their home so long ago, and her sister twenty six. She laid, indisposed with a fever all too befitting for her in the winter months (as she was quite often sickly as a child and into her young adult life), unsure of when her sister had left and how much longer she would have to wait until her return. She was plagued with dreams during her fever, dreams she had now come to believe were visions. Dreams of her sister fighting with her rapier in hand, dreams of the Lord's men coming for her with torches in her sleep. Dreams that would eventually come and break the door of their found hovel nearly from it's hinges, not the Lord's men, but dreams spurred on by rumors and whispers of wraiths of pale hair and visage dwelling in a ruined home on the fringes of the old plaguelands.

 _Lie still demon,_ their leader had said to her in her startle, dousing her with water she was certain he claimed as holy. _You are an affront to God and all that is holy. Your life will be ended. Chain her!_ A tall yet lanky man descended on her at his command. Her illness had stricken her weak and ultimately unable to defend herself. Her instinct toward survival was what commanded her action and drove her tongue recklessly.

_Away._

The man had seemingly stumbled back over a small, rotting stool, falling clumsily onto his backside. _She's cursed me! She be no demon.. a witch, she's cursed me!_ A malevolence flared in the leader's eyes, murderous as he was on her with a large hand about her throat.

 _I know no curses,_ she lied. _Please! I am not a wit—_ He hit her with the back of his hand, her nose bloodying and her head throbbing with headache exacerbated by the blow. _Please,_ she cried, _I know no curses. I am not of the devil!_

_Chain the Witch!_

She knew then that she would never see her sister again.

She remembers being chained by the wrists and ankles with threats of the stake lining her bondage, being taken from the hovel in her bedclothes and thrown into a caged wagon like a slave. She remembers the roof collapsing as their found refuge burned to the ground. The wood of the carriage's base was hard and terribly cut, rubbing splinters into her face and arms as she tried to shield herself from it and the cold. Her head pounded and her flesh burned as she watched blood from her nose find its way through the cracks in the wagon to dot the snow beneath it.

She never saw the stake. Instead, the banded caravan rode into the mountains to their outpost. They knew no King, nor a God. She remembers that she nearly died that winter she and her sister were lost to each other, locked in a shack on a bed of hay to be meagerly fed every other day. She remembers the only warmth she had was from the embers she lit with breathy whispers on stray patches of hay and from the unwanted company she had more nights than not. She remembers—

She remembers that she doesn't want to remember.

Another dream, of burning and fury, led her away from that Hell. She doesn't remember that dream even though she lived it. Scalding cold winds that blazed around her, colder than was natural, burning holes into the men's flesh as they tried to surround her, nearly mummifying them where they tried to advance. She had felt warm in that frigid cyclone despite her toes turning blue in the snow.

That same wagon, draped with furs and cloths and bedded with fresh hay, she took back down the mountain. She knew not how to return to the ruins of where her and Winter once stayed and that brought her both turmoil and relief. She was.. changed: broken, devoid of strength and a sense of worth, a sense of _life_. She rode back down the mountain and continued to ride south. She was tired of the season of winter, the bloodstained snow, unwell nights, frozen corpses, and memories of an ash filled dusk. She cried often in the back of that wagon when she was able to find rest on her journey. She feared the world would never provide her with peace or healing. Only suffering.

She wandered the borders of civilization, cautious and wary of any kingdom, demesne, or unaffiliated settlement. Every land was touched by some pious crusade their ruler saw fit to claim was handed to them by God to ward away the Devil from the earth. Even the kingless and the godless feared damnation in some way, or what they did not know and could not wield, somehow drawn in by the zeal of others. And she suffered, _ceaselessly_ , because the world was wrought in such a way that it was. What her mother once called a gift had warped grotesquely into a curse that burdened her more and more with every breath she continued to take. The joy and love she knew during her youth were ephemeral. She could remember them clearly, briefly on days when she was able to travel that linear track in her mind back to them, through everything that tore her apart thereafter, and those memories were _good_. It was a fleeting reminiscence that always lassoed her by the throat and brought her reluctantly back to the present. She lamented how she could never die in a good dream.

Yet, another vision during her isolated transience was what compelled her back to the place where her joy ceased and her sorrows began: the _Atlesia_ Sovereign's decaying estate. The dream was of her sister calling to her, frantic and searching, over and _over._ And her sister's calls would be followed by a child's laughter, _her_ laughter from days long past when Winter would play with her. She had hidden in many a room, behind many a chair, under many a bed, and in many a closet, but _Winter_ would always find her without fail. And so she returned, following her visions back to a place that haunted her as much as she now haunted it.

She's arrived during warmer months with few provisions and even less time to gather what root vegetables and grains still grew wildly on the land. She subsisted on that and small game, but as the weather grew colder and the snow came, it all became scarce. Now she fed on bread and preserves, and aged wine and spirits from the cellar, drinking copiously to blind her for most of her stay. But months had passed, and the northern winter had settled in so steadfastly that she was unable to leave without dying somewhere along her retreat in the back of her wagon, alone. The darker corners of her mind begged her to wonder if she wanted that. _Needed_ that. Alone was never good for her.

But she was safe here. Wherever she went throughout the estate and within the boundaries of these cursed lands she could feel a subtle enchantment that tenderly caressed her as gently as an April breeze, ever so slightly warm even, if she allowed herself to feel it. More often than not she didn't, for feeling that small comfort reminded her of the price that was paid for such strong magicks. And feeling warmth in such an afflicted place was true sacrilege. She stared at her hand drunkenly, the bleeding staunched and her cut throbbing dully. Standing, she cradled it to her chest as she meandered toward her room.

This room was one of the very few one could consider hospitable despite its still squalid state, but the bed linens were mostly free of mold thanks to the ventilation the room saw from broken panes in the window. She had done her best to remove as much dust as she was able and remove what debris and refuse she could, bringing her old sheets and furs from the wagon to line the bed and warm her sufficiently during the bitter nights. Much to her relief, the chimney above the fireplace was only partially blocked, allowing her the comfort of a small fire to warm what corner the flames could. She began to stoke one, making sure it was well enough lit before she moved to her bed. She tore a small piece of cloth from her bedding before taking a fur and going to sit at the small table she had brought from another room to the fireside.

It creaked wearily under her meager weight as she sat and slung the fur across her shoulders. The northern Atlesian winter was not treating her kindly. She had been feverish several times during the past few months, the only thing staving off a mortal illness was a tea she drank every night of various herbs, jasmine, and wild ginger root she was lucky to find growing sparingly in the old garden. Filling her tea kettle from a tankard of water, she started her nightly ritual by placing it over the fire. She then turned to a bottle of spirits that sat on the table. Uncorking it, she laid her hand out palm up and dashed a healthy amount over her hand. She drew in a sharp breath and clinched her teeth. This pain didn't have the privilege of being vocalized. She took a sloppy swig before setting the bottle back down to wrap her hand with the torn cloth. Satisfied with her haphazard work, she drew her bare legs and feet under the fur and stared blankly at the fire.

She remembers laughter in this room, childish secrets being whispered and shared, her sister braiding her hair. She would often sit in this chair at the start of her day and brush through the length of her fair hair, a meticulous undertaking, but it filled her with a foreign sense of fondness, an anticipation for hands that would weave together her hair. She would walk the halls after that, needing to put distance between herself and this room, _Winter's_ room. The whistle of the tea kettle startled her from her memories. With a sigh and a shiver, she freed herself from the fur to steep the tea. She drank the concoction a while later, the hot beverage filling the parts of her the fire couldn't touch with its heat. Every night this was her ritual: huddling next to the fire under her fur, sipping a pale spirit that would aid her in a sound sleep, drinking her tea, and.. reading the leaves.

Nothing concrete would ever come from her divination, just vague wisps in the dregs that left her lost for anything to intuit. She once saw what looked to be hands almost touching and in another a waxing crescent moon. One appeared to her as a rose, and another a black void as the dregs had all settled into the center of the cup. It was a torture she subjected herself to every night for reasons she wasn't even sure of. She didn't feel much of a connection to the Divine, not as she used to. She closed her eyes before bowing her head to the cup, saying a prayer nonetheless, for _strength_ , as she prepared to read again.

The leaves were _red._

The tea cup shattered on the floor, dropped in horror as she stood, knocking the chair to the ground and dropping her fur. She brought a shaky hand to her face, checking her nose and lips for signs of blood, but there were none. She swore the leaves were red, contrasting starkly against the white of the cup, but as she crept closer to the fire with tentative steps and crouched down, the dregs were nothing but dark remains amongst the broken pieces of the cup. Had madness woven its way into her mind, plagued by the dark spirits of her despair? She closed her eyes and shook her head once before opening them. The dregs remained unchanged.

She shakily rose to her feet and doused the fire out with the water that remained in the tankard before retrieving her fur from the floor. She wrapped it tightly around her and turned to stare at the pale fragments of the teacup on the hearth. She turned away from them soon after in favor of her bed, climbing in and burying herself under and additional fur. She wanted to believe her mind was addled from all the drink she had, but she wasn't one to seek comfort in delusions. She _knows_ what she saw. After all the vague images she had seen before in the leaves, she couldn't ignore this one which was such a departure from all the others. But what did it mean? To her, red was a color of _blood_ and _flame_ , fevers and bruises too shallow to turn violent and dark. Was this a harbinger of danger? Was she not _safe_ here? Her body shivered, partially from the cold that still lingered in her bones, but mostly from fear. She drew her knees to her chest in an attempt to still her body's quivers that were nearly convulsive, but she couldn't stop _shaking_.

She knew something was wrong when she felt a pull on her mind into darkness that was stronger than what the drink should have provided. She knew it was bad when a sharp pain shot through her head. She was swallowed by a vision filled with flames. Children's laughter danced around her head. Her sister was calling to her. She saw her hand, reaching for her, but too many and too _rough_ hands pulled her away from Winter's outstretched arm and into fiery bed of hay, pinning her down as the flames engulfed her.

And then there was nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am compartmentalizing myself into many different things: journals, SD cards, Finstas and Fwitters, stories.
> 
> Unsure of whether or not I need this, or if everything will be perpetually unfinished, ahem, I mean, run as long as As The World Turns or Days of Our Lives, but I decided to start a fantasy thing.
> 
> Full disclosure, I"ve been watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and that has me in my witchy feels while life forever has me steeped in darkness, so I bring you Dark Witchy Fantasy AU!
> 
> Now that this is out of my brain, my nicotine deprived self will go to bed to awake in four hours to go to work.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to more
> 
> Ivel


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark imagery ahead.

_Lo is the well, where the farmer's son fell_

_Lost 'til morning where they found him_

_Without his catch from the blackberry patch,_

_He was buried in the clothes he had drowned in._

She was running barefoot in the snow, breathless and hunted yet again by a black dog. The first time she chanced a look back she saw that the dog's eyes were missing, blood pouring from where they once were to stain the snow before _it_ was upon her. It bit at her heels, upsetting her rhythm and causing her to fall in a heap to the ground. It continued to bite at her feet, sharp teeth tearing her flesh from the bone, but never seeking more for its meal. That was the first time.

She was running again, breathless and hunted by the same black dog, though this time when she chanced a look back, the dog had the face of a man with a pointed chin, mouth agape and laughing at her as _it_ pursued. It bit at her heels causing her to tumble in a heap to the ground and again, pulled the flesh from her feet and nothing more. Every time she would frantically attempt to kick the beast away, but the more she fought, the more bone it revealed. It seemed to relish in her torment, laughing still. Her blood stained the beast's pointed chin and painted the snow around them.

Suddenly, she was plunged into an abyss. She struggled to right herself as her lungs constricted and begged her for air, but she could not find her way. She turned and thrashed in dark waters. Just when she thought she was right side up, pressure would build around her as she fell further. Her bones whined under the strain as she sank deeper by the fathoms, felt them eventually snap like branches burdened by a heavy snowfall. Suddenly, she was gasping in lungful after lungful of air. She warily treaded the surface of the water trying to get a bearing of her surroundings. She extended her hands all around her and found nothing but stone. A pale dot of sunlight shone above her in the distance. Was she at the bottom of a well?

"Hello!" There was futility in her endeavor, and as such her call remained unanswered. She called again, this time her voice echoing upward along the stone that seemed to tower above her far higher than she thought a well should run deep.

_"They'll not find us 'til morning."_

She spun herself around as quickly as she could propel herself. She found herself nose to nose with a gruesome specter of a child. His eyes were white and his skin a sickly mix of blue and green. His tongue protruded from his mouth, swollen from how long he had been lost in the water and the ski tearing grotesquely around it, flesh smelling waterlogged and rotten. A hand of his rose through the water and fed blackberries into his deformed maw.

_"I'll share with you, since you have a black dog too."_

The corpse shoved a fistful of blackberries into its mouth, chewing them sloppily before all of the contents dribbled down his chin and his teeth fell out in bunches. She screamed and tried to claw her way up the stone.

Her body burned all along its length, but it wasn't the cursed fire from the flaming bed of hay. It just was. Her feet ached terribly. She knew the dog had been upon her again, tearing the delicate tissues from her appendages. She knew she needed to try and kick it away, but her body wouldn't move and her eyes were weighted shut by the oppressive heat that burned through her.

"Lie still. You shouldn't try to move." She couldn't place the voice, but couldn't tell if she'd heard it before or not.

She was running again, though this time the black dog wasn't hunting her when she looked behind her. What was she running from now, and why? She slowed herself, choosing to walk through the snowy void now that she wasn't being chased. The cold nipped at her skin. She shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She was far colder here than she remembered ever being elsewhere in her life. She continued to walk and yet the landscape never changed. There were no trees, no brush, no mountains, and the sky was a barren grey that looked as though it had been painted over her in one brushstroke. She pressed on as harsh winds whipped her hair about her face.

_Lo is the bell that tolled in the church_

_Not for ye, and not for her._

_But for the boy fished from the well_

_Pine box closed for how his face had swelled._

The wind picked up and fresh snow had started to fall. She braced herself against the blasts of cold air and pressed on. The flakes of snow turned to sharp chips of ice. She shielded her face from the shards. They drew blood every time they hit her. Something lay before her in the snow, just twenty feet on, white and blended in with the powder. Her feet ached and when she looked down she saw she was walking on bloodied and skeletal remains. Sharp pains shot up through her legs and to the snow she fell. She pressed on, heaving herself up to crawl through the storm to what lay before her in the snow, just ten feet on now. Something inside her told her that she needed to reach it. Her fingers were turning blue and the cuts on her face dripped blood into the snow. Just three feet on now. The wind picked up heavily. She collapsed and her skin seared in the unnatural cold, letting her know she was freezing to death and would die soon. She reached out for the object, and once she had it in her grasp the storm ceased completely. A teacup.

She heaved herself to her knees and held the cup up. The leaves were _red._

The cup shattered in her hands.

She was burning up, and she didn't know if she was laying on that bed of fire now or not.

"Here, drink this." A hand found its way behind her head to lift it gently up. A cool liquid teased at her lips and she parted them in her thirst. It was bitter, medicinal in taste, but it soothed her. She choked it down greedily.

"Am I.. alive?" she managed once the cool liquid's vessel left her lips and her head was gently rested back down. "Is this.. a dream?" She still didn't have the strength to open her eyes.

"You are. And no, this isn't a dream.. unless I'm dreaming too.."

She heard the familiar whistles of the wind blowing through the empty panes in her windows, a lullaby that often carried her through the nights. It was a winter song, _her_ Winter's song, a wilted tune for songs long gone. There was an elegy in her head.. Who was she mourning? Someone was humming, and a fire crackled faintly. Who was it warming? She didn't believe she was dreaming. Her mind had stayed in one place and didn't flit her about anymore as wantonly as whatever deemed fit. And so she rested, as best she could, anchoring herself to the amelodic humming laid over the crackling of the fire. He body didn't burn so much now.

The dreams never returned to her, but her fever burned her from time and space. She knew not much of her surroundings or what she was going through. But respite so courteously came, along with that cool, bitter drink and warm, herbal broths, fed to her at regular intervals by gentle, careful hands. She smelled roses more often than not when that.. whoever was near. Was someone here, wherever she was? Had they also slipped past the veil through which she lost herself? She didn't have the will to know. Not right now.

Images of her sister danced in her head. She was here with her, in mind, but not in heart. That separation left a cavernous hole in her where bitterness and sorrow squatted next to her soul, unwelcome emotional tramps that danced atop her fragile spirit.

The sun nearly blinded her when she opened her eyes. She was unsure of how long, but knew it had been a while since she'd been truly awake. Her brain was still fogged by what had taken her over and her head was still warm to her own touch, but she was free from the darkness that had swallowed her whole. Even still, she remembered her dreams, her.. visions, as vividly now as when she had lived them in that darkness. The black dog, the drowned boy, that the boy had a black dog too. The teacup. Her eyes drifted to the hearth, and what she saw there startled her immensely and chilled her to her core.

Sitting next to the fireplace was an open traveler's pack, somewhat limp as some of its contents were undoubtedly the ones strewn about the table and the hearth: a few bowls and an iron pot sat in front of the fireplace and a journal lay open next to an inkwell on _her_ table, herbs dangled from a length of cord strung over top, a dark, unfamiliar fur hung haphazardly over the back of _her_ chair, and a pair of boots sat off in the corner. She sat up slowly, body heavy and head spinning slightly as she did, and pulled her legs off the bed. Her mind was slow to put the elements outside of her baseline together into a panic: _Someone was here._

She hastened up and tore through her door, padding as quickly as she could down the hall to the stairs, using the wall to support herself in her compromised state. When she reached the top of the stairs she took a few steps down before bracing herself on the railing. There, just across the threshold inside her house, was a girl, barefoot and clad in a crimson cloak brushing snow from her short, dark hair and shoulders. She made a noise in her throat as she leaned more onto the railing for support, body betraying her for lack of energy. The girl looked up, hair falling across her face, the stunning pale silver of her irises locking into hers.

"You're awake," the young woman said to her. "You shouldn't be up though. You're still not well." Anger and cautious contempt swelled in her.

" _Who are you?"_ She roared that, the vibrations of her voice palpable as they carried down the stairs. Her body tensed from her exertion and she found herself having to rely more on the railing, the rotting wood groaning subtly under the added weight. "Get out. _Leave_ my home, _now._ "

"Your home?" The woman stared at her unamused, looking around briefly before returning her gaze, face and movements belying her own cautiousness as she slowly removed her cloak. "This place is hardly fit to be a home—"

"And yet it is mine still. _Leave."_

"I thought you were dead when I found you," the young woman stated. That gave her pause, but her contempt didn't wane. "I didn't expect anyone would be here, so I'm sorry I intruded."

"You will _leave._ "

"There's a storm coming," the woman said steadily. "The cold would take me before I found shelter. I know there is nothing along the way."

" _You will leave!"_ The force exerted in her command rattled the few adornments that still hung on the walls around the top of the staircase and pained her physically. She was reckless with her tongue in her distress. " _That_.. is no problem of my own!" Her strength left her at that moment and she found herself collapsing to sit on the stairs, clutching the rail weakly. Her head swam and her breaths came out in pants as her body's betrayals intensified. Her diaphragm seized and she retched the nearly nonexistent contents of her stomach in front on her. She was shaking. The woman started for the stairs, a peculiar look in her eye. " _You will not come near me!"_ she shrieked. The woman halted herself at the foot of the stairs.

"You're ill.. And I mean you no harm." The woman's words were gentler this time and her movements didn't carry their previous caution. "I do not mean to put you out, and for that I _am_ sorry. But neither of us are in the position to be leaving where we ought be."

"Where _ought_ we be then?" Her words came harshly over labored breaths and she pulled closer to the railing to increase the already large distance between her and this _stranger_.

"You ought to be in bed. And I ought to be out of the cold, but that is left to you," the woman said simply. "If you want me to leave, then I will leave."

Her head pounded out its protests in an unsteady rhythm and heat began to rise in her temples, making it hard for her to ascertain the breadth of her present circumstances. She shivered inwardly and felt as though she would be sick again. She was vulnerable in this moment, physically and by proxy, emotionally. Something burst in her suddenly and she began to cry raggedly, pitifully, clinging to the rail of the stairs. " _Why did you come here_!" she yelled.

"I am self-exiled.. from the Kingdom of Vale," the woman confessed slowly, keeping her distance from her at the foot of the stairs. "I came seeking shelter from the cold when signs of the storm started."

" _Self-_ exiled," she laughed bitterly over her tears.

"I have.. magick," the woman spoke softly, uncertain of her confession.

Silence filled the halls and filled a large span of time, a stillness laid over the tension from their exchange, and neither seemed poised to speak and fill it. The woman stayed at the foot of the stairs, and she remained sitting at the top of the stairs, leaning against and clinging to the railing. Though her tears had long stopped flowing, she was still in a piteous display. Her body shook uncontrollably, unsure of how to behave with the cold that was beginning to permeate her bones and the fever that scorched her flesh. She retched again.

"You're not well," the woman started.

"Why did.. you _stay?_ "

"I stayed.. because I was compelled to help you." The young woman's words bled honesty.

"Do you _know_ of this place? Of its _history_.."

"I don't know. I'm unsure where we are, what _this_ place is," the woman said.

"I see.."

"May I come to you?"

" _No,_ " she denied forcefully.

"Okay," the woman accepted simply from the bottom of the stairs, having never even moved an inch in assumption.

Silence fell over them again. The wind whistled through the holes in the windows and cracks in house, lilting a melody throughout that should have been unsettling over the quiet, but it gave her calm. Closing her eyes and loosing a ragged breath, she pieced her many thoughts and emotions together slowly, _carefully_ , needing to have control over something in lieu of being unable to reign in her body's endless quakes. "Were you.. the one then," she began softly, "who smelled of roses beyond my dreams?"

"I was," the young woman confirmed.

"Did you carry.. the cool drink and warm broths to my lips?"

"I was."

"You were.. gentle to me.."

"I was."

Gentleness wasn't something she had known much of over the years. Not since her sister..

"You.. mean me no harm, then?"

"I mean no one any harm." She sighed and nodded her head in acceptance. She barely had the strength left for words. "Will you let me help you back to your room?"

"..yes."

The young woman ascended the stairs to crouch beside her and took her carefully by the arm, pulling her close to her with a surprisingly strong grasp for support and placing a hand about her ribs for stability. They took slow measured steps together back down the hall to her room. She leaned on the woman more than she wanted to, more than she thought she would have needed to, more than she was _comfortable_ with, but the energy she had when she first left her room in haste had vacated her body completely and left her bereft of nearly all her strength. She could feel the cold digging more into her bones. They whined in protest of her verticality. And if a storm was indeed coming, then the chill in the estate would grow even more pervasive.

She was helped gently to sit and then lie in her bed on her back, her standing strength nearly consumed and the smell of roses lingering in her nostrils. She weakly drew one fur to her chin and the other around her head. Now that she was mostly devoid of her fear and anger upon discovering a stranger in her house, she was left with the full impact of how unwell she truly felt. She brought hand to her head, an ache still pulsating in her temples though now much duller since she was lying down. She felt the heat from her brow on her own hand. She shivered and drew her arm back under her furs.

"Is it alright if I place a cold cloth on your forehead?" The young woman spoke to her from a basin by the fresh fire, crouched down over it with a rag at the ready and looking at her expectantly for explicit permission.

"..yes." The woman dipped the rag in the basin, ringing it out and folding it before she rose. She approached evenly, placing the cool cloth on her head once she was near enough, and then returned to the hearth. She busied herself with something, reaching for the pot and the bowls, something out of her line of sight, and some herbs from over the fire. She seemed content in her task, not making to speak to fill the silence. Despite her fear and anger having left her, her cautiousness still remained. But something new stirred within her: _curosity._ "Where were you.. earlier?" Her voice carried softly from her bed. "Your feet are bare.. the snow won't be kind to them.."

"I've known worse. The snow doesn't bother me much if I'm not out for long," the young woman spoke. "I was feeding the horses. And tending to their fire. They might not make it through the storm without it."

"Ah. Vaan," she spoke fondly of the steed that had been her only companion since she left that outpost so, so long ago. She turned gingerly on her side to face the fire, curling into herself under her blanket of furs as she stared at the young woman's back through her feverish haze. "I'm.. grateful to you for that.." She let her eyes fall closed, body and mind weary and tired.

"It was no trouble," the young woman said. "I'm sure Elie enjoys her new friend."

"Elie?"

"My mare." The strange young woman turned around briefly and offered her a small smile before returning to her task, working meticulously.

"You have magick?" The young woman's movements stopped briefly before resuming the work she was undertaking.

"Yes," she replied shortly. "May I come to you?"

"Yes." She heard the woman's bare feet pad slowly across the floor to her. 

"Here, I've brought something that will help. Roll onto your back and I'll help you drink. If that is fine?" She turned silently onto her back, her motions slow and difficult. She had exerted herself more than she initially realized and she was paying for it dearly. She smelled roses again. "Here." A hand carefully found its way behind her head and gently helped to lift her head up before a bowl started at her lips. She parted them, the familiar cool and medicinal taste greeting her as she allowed I passage into her mouth. She drank it greedily, suddenly aware of her thirst. "One more, for strength." This time a warm liquid greeted her smelling of herbs and spices. And again, she drank. When the broth was gone, her head was just as gently laid back down before she heard the young woman move back across the room.

"You have magick," she said again, opening her heavily lidded eyes and turning to gaze upon the young woman's back as she put the bowls off to the side of the fireplace. The woman rose and turned to look at her warily before turning the chair to face her, sitting in it and draping the dark fur over her shoulders.

"I do," she repeated. "I can leave if you are put off." She lowered her head to stare at her bare feet.

"No," she said softly, softer than she expected. "I also have it in my blood."

"You do?" She lifted her eyes timidly from her feet, her eyes showing signs of curiosity.

"I do." She pulled a hand from under the furs and held it out from the bed, palm facing up. " _Fly._ " A trio of small lights started over her hand, almost like fireflies, circling around each other before she directed them over to the young woman. The flitted about her head playfully, the woman whipping her head back and forth trying to follow their movements with bright eyes and a small smile. The curious display drew out a small smile of her own before finally she let the lights dissipate into the air.

"That was amazing," the young woman offered.

"Perhaps," she said softly before letting her eyes close and pulling her arm back under the furs. A slight warmth started at her nose and a light started through her eyelids. She opened her eyes again and saw three orange lights flitting about it front of her face before dissipating into the air like her own had.

"Fire spirits," the young woman said with a shy smile.

"Ice spirits," she said of her own summons. Silence spread across them again, but this time line with a kindred comfort they could share in as the young woman focused on her feet again. She continued to gaze upon her. Their brief exchange of spirits eroded away at her caution toward and wariness of the girl. Looking on her, she saw someone whom she felt, no _knew_ was akin to her in ways she couldn't ascribe. "What's your name?"

"My name?" Pale, silver eyes rose to meet her own. "My name.. is Ruby," she revealed. "And your own?"

"Ruby," she tried out, unfamiliar with knowing let alone saying another name. "My name is Weiss," she imparted, foregoing revealing her last name to follow Ruby's suit.

"Weiss," Ruby tried out, stirring something foreign in her.

"It's been a while since I've heard my own name.." Not since Winter.

"It becomes easier, doesn't it? Safer, I've found," Ruby said quietly.

"It does," she agreed morosely.

"I'm sorry again, for intruding," Ruby said. "It wasn't my intention.."

"Yet your intention wasn't a harmful one," she assuaged. "I can look past it.. to all that you have done for me."

"Helping is in my nature," Ruby said. "Healing.. is in my nature." Silence passed them over again as Ruby tugged on her furs, wrapping them tighter around her. "May I stay?" Her voice was soft. "Here, with you? Until the storm clears."

She considered the request, a feat for her with the uninhibited caution that started within her at the innocent request, but she quelled that near instantly. There was something kindred here, between them. Something they shared, and nothing in her could overlook that despite how she wondered if it was in her best interest to give this request consideration. She didn't know who or what Ruby was fleeing nor did she know if said pursuers would come seeking the young woman on her lands. But she could not deny what they shared in. "I don't know how it was that.. we were brought together," she started through her exhaustion. "Or if God means us well by it.. but I can not ignore your kindness. It would be ignoble of me." Her eyes drifted closed as a tiredness began to peak and an ease from Ruby's meal and medicine soothed her. "So you may stay. Here.. with me."

"Thank you," Ruby said quietly before she allowed slumber to take her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I overshared as hell last end notes, huh? 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and please look forward to more.
> 
> All fireflies received are honored,
> 
> Ivel


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:
> 
> Uncomfortable Themes

The wind howled violently outside the estate, rattling the glass of the windows and making the building's decrepit foundation moan under winter's fervent and indifferent display of power. The storm rolled in the day before yesterday, maligning the daylight hours more than the season already did by nature. Cold seeped through every crack of the house, displacing any warmth that had tried to start within the rotting walls. A _true_ Atlesian winter. Desperate and barren.

A fire burned decently in her room, a small blessing made petty by the overwhelming bitterness of the chill, and two chairs now sat in front of it just beyond the hearth: the one she now sat in and the one just adjacent to her, empty while its usual occupant was out tending to the horses.

Her fever had mostly subsided, yet her body still thrummed with aches and chills as she traipsed that fine line between wellness and succumbing to the wrath of the cold. Ruby had tended to her with careful, gentle hands for the day after she woke until she built enough strength to bring the broths and cool, bitter liquids to her own lips the day following. Despite their nearness to each other, neither had spoken much to the other outside of Ruby seeking permissions to care for her and her obliging the young woman's requests with monosyllabic utterances. Their silences were carried to the fire, where they found themselves sitting together to absorb what warmth it had to offer them before she retired to her bed to sleep. She lofted that burden of silence over them, and the silence would have been deafening if she hadn't been used to it, but she found it difficult, being in another's company when she had previously spent years wholly alone. As such, she didn't give the young woman any purchase when it came to the potential for conversation. The young woman didn't even venture to hum those amelodic and voiceless songs she once sang in front of the fire.

She had granted Ruby her request, to stay here with her until the storm had passed, but her presence unwittingly caused her great distress. She could feel it in her clenched jaw, pulse hammering in her teeth in erratic rhythms when she was drawn to the young woman's presence by any movement she made even if she was already aware that she was there. The presence of another body so near to her own set her on edge despite the.. no, she didn't take _comfort_ in the woman's being here. She couldn't. She didn't remember how.

She wrapped her arms further around herself under her fur, digging her nails into her arm in agony of the confliction she was experiencing. How could she both take solace in the presence of another and be equally grieved by it? Her hand fell to the small of her stomach and pressed into her flesh, staving off phantom pangs of things long since felt. How was she able to experience what she could only _approximate_ as pleasure while she was undoubtedly experiencing _pain_. She dug her nails in there too, though the effort was diminished by the cloth of her dress, in an attempt to quell the unwanted remembrances this sudden anguish was starting in her. She clenched her eyes shut and leaned forward ever so slightly, forced by her mind to remember pains that she could not bear, warning her of pains yet to pass. Hay in her mouth, the smell of sweat, blood on the hem of her bedclothes. Her body shuddered and everything darkened further as though she was sitting in a room bereft of light. She heard nothing of the fire and her feet ached on the floor. She pulled them together, pressing her left sole into the top of the right and grinding it into the tender flesh.

_I'll share with you, since you have a black dog too._

Warm breath and the gnashing of teeth.

_I'll share with you, since you have a black dog too._

Cold sweats and wounds that freely bleed.

"I have a black dog too," her voice trembled. "I have a black dog too." She rocked inward on herself, repeating that mantra for no reason other than in the lining of her soul, she knew it was true, however it was true. She refused to open her eyes, afraid that she was being overtaken by another vision that she was ill equipped to escape from in her present state of mind. "I have a black dog too.." The crackle of the fire crept back to her aural senses and she rocked herself up from her chair on a whim with her fur, mind tilting hither and thither, gentle hands, and absently stumbled from the room. She padded wearily down the hall, the contrast between the warmth she felt in front of the fire and its stark absence elsewhere in the house doing little to hinder her motions. She felt a darkness pulling at her corners where she kept her troubles neatly set aside. She heard the faint sound of sloshing water before it ceased and her pace quickened slightly toward the stairs. She was searching, for what she knew not, but she was seeking to find something that her heart beat for a proximity to. Sudden, vain, and _foreign_. She stopped at the top, but what stilled her, turned her to stone and dashed the chaos from her, were candlelit lines scarred into the back of flesh.

She only saw briefly before Ruby had finished pulling her blouse over her as she knelt next to a basin of water, the red, _angry,_ and violent scars etched into her back. The young woman had said she'd known worse. This young woman had known the _whip_. A subtle burning started in her head. She brought a hand to her brow and clenched her eyes shut, trying to will it away. She wanted nothing of a vision. But when she opened her eyes she was no longer in the estate, no longer in _Atlesia_ she surmised by the scene she was now thrust in. She stood as one of many lookers on in the square of what seemed to be a small village. The nature surrounding and enveloping the small village was lush, wildflowers blooming and lacing the air with a perfume so sweet she wished that for herself from the springs of _Atlesia_. One thing marred the beauty of the town, and that was the girl with short, dark hair kneeling, torso bare and arms outstretched tied to two wooden posts. Those same lines on her back bled freely here. She blinked and the vision was gone. She was back at the top of the stairs, watching Ruby as she made to move, picking up a bow and quiver to nestle next to the door before she grabbed a burlap sack and turned toward her. She froze and once she did, her pale eyes locking into her own, filled with apprehension and _fear_. A different type of silence surrounded them, and it was _deafening_. And she knew then that she had seen something of Ruby that perhaps _no one_ was meant to see.

"I—"

"I-I found a rabbit, out in the field," Ruby said quickly. "I skinned and cleaned it in the barn.. I thought we could have it for supper..."

"I— yes. We could.."

Ruby made for the stairs, ascending them quickly with her head down, and only when she was passing her did she speak. "I'll start on it.."

She was left standing at the top of the stairs as Ruby disappeared down the hall and into her room. Her mind was rid its own agonies in the wake of what she had seen, and in her own house as she made her way back to the room, she felt more the intruder than any invader who had or could cross the threshold into this domain could be. She eased the door further open from its slightly ajar position to find Ruby huddled over the makeshift spit she had positioned over the fire. She tentatively took the steps to her chair and silently sat, pulling her fur fast around her. The room already smelled of a mixture of meat and various herbs and spices, hitting her with the awareness of how long she remained standing at the top of the stairs. She closed her eyes and quietly loosed a deep breath. She saw raised, red lines painted over the back of her eyelids, she saw them bleeding on trembling skin.

"You saw them.. didn't you?" Ruby's voice softly cutting through the silence startled her. She clenched her eyes further shut before slowly opening them to stare at the young woman's back as she rotated the spit.

"I—" She saw them, and much more.

"You _saw_ them, didn't you?"

"I—" She wanted her to leave this be. Selfishly, she knew, but the tension was already agitated enough. "..was looking for you. I didn't intend to.." There was no lie in her answer though she was unsure of where the truth was on her tongue. It wasn't her intention to see the young woman's scars, nor was it her intention to find that she was seeking her when she left the room. She wished she'd never spoken.

"They're why I left the Kingdom—" Ruby spoke softly before she broke in to stop her

" _Don't_ speak on it," she said forcefully before her insides calmed. "You don't have to.."

"I do _have to,_ " Ruby combatted. "You saw more than you let on.."

That revealing, that Ruby _knew_ of her vision arrested her. What was she meant to do? Lie? Coddle her own discomfort by twisting the truth into one that would dissolve this situation into a silent supper and quiet by the fire? Nothing had ever put her at a loss more than the present moment did, and that enraged her in a reflexive way that she could not combat.

"I didn't _choose_ to!" she said, her voice raised, straightening herself to glare daggers into the young woman's back.

"Don't take pity on me!' Ruby yelled with a force that shook the fire in its blaze. "I don't take pity on you! Your crying in your sleep, your vacant eyes! That you can't bear your pain any more than I can!"

"Do _not_ presume to _know_ me!" She was standing now, hands clenched and blood near a boil, but unshed tears swam in her eyes for Ruby had trodden on her weakness with a few words and even less insight. Or so she _assumed_. "You know nothing of what pains me, what _holds_ me!"

"Then don't stand there pretending your sight didn't let you into mine!" Ruby was staring at her now, spit forgotten and her eyes angry, reflective pools of molten metal that bled tears of pure agony and _shame._

It dawned on her then, an eclipse of knowledge. She knew not much, but she knew there was a _wrongness_ in those silver fountains.

"Why are you 'shamed.. of the pains you've met by the hands of others?"

"Because my shame is my own! I affronted God.. not because of magick, but because I loved!" The confession came venomously from her lips, attacking in an attempt to poison anything that defied her belief past and present. And then quietly, "I loved another woman.. she cast me aside to save herself from the whip.. She claimed my magick had cursed us together when all I can do is heal.." The fire flickered out and Ruby was crying on the hearth. Her body shook with her sobs and lofted a haunting soliloquy above them both. The warmth was gone from the room and the sparse moonlight sadly graced them through the window from behind the dense storm clouds.

She couldn't _bear_ this heave. She couldn't stand to be made witness to this wholly encompassing and abject suffering of the one whose hands had been so gentle to her when she thought she'd never know such again. Those hands that treated her like she deserved to continue _living_. What possessed her motions she could not say, but her fur was quickly abandoned and she found her arms wrapped around the back of the one who had deemed her _worth_ it. She held the young woman, bound her tightly with some sort of love that bloomed from their mournful kinship as they shivered together in the cold.

"I do not know what I want of us, but I do not want _this,"_ she plead as she pressed her head to Ruby's back. "I can't bear this sorrow, and I don't know _how_ to take it away!" She fastened her tighter to her heart and she felt the two pulses beat against each other beneath back and rib. "I'm sorry I brought this to us! To our fires, to our quiet communions.." Her own tears flowed freely now with abandon, soaking the young woman's shirt as she held her fast against her bosom as though she was found gold. Ruby leaned back into the embrace and she cradled her there to her heart as the young woman cried. "I don't.. I don't know how to care for another.. My hands shake now as I try to care for you." And they did. Her body was screaming for distance, but her heart and mind compelled her to pull this suddenly cherished one ever closer. "Forgive me.."

Ruby cried raggedly against her chest in torment as she held her about the torso. She loosed a hand and began carting it through dark hair as she pressed her face against the young woman's head. She smelled of roses and wood, and the mixture intoxicated her so that she pulled her closer and breathed a deeper breath than she felt she had taken all her life. She couldn't let her go, not this way. Not any way.

_Lo is the Rose, bereft of all petals_

_Thus kindly scattered 'cross distant meadows._

_Naked and shorn, a majesty still must_

_Grow by the thorn in Love's kind trust._

No vision came to pass, and they stayed there, tangled together in the moonlight subsisting on each other's warmth, planted kisses to the head and desperate pulls on skin begging another to hold them tighter. A silence scarred the room, but in a way that was tender. Sorrow made room for sorrow and two pains entwined to create something new, something.. _bearable._ She started to hum into dark hair to soothe the still shuddered breathing of the one she held. She felt her chest rise and fall beneath her forearms, growing smoother by the bar. She pulled her even closer still and uttered a blessing to grow this waxing peace:

_Rest_

A way was made to the bed and the night took them to slumber. Warm puffs of breaths vacated bodies. Those bodies were held close. Dreams were empty with peace.

And minds were made still in the comfort of a kinship forged in winter and tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I've had a mindfuck of a night, but from it blossomed kinshp and love.  
>  Never forsake a pasage in life that can fill your soul more than you cup already is!~~
> 
> Sorry, I some times get.. _affectionate_ when I drink.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to more.  
> All fireflis received are honored,
> 
> Ivel
> 
> PS:
> 
> Cyberpunk 2077 is coming out soon and I've aleady been neglecting my resposibilities as a Guardian in Destiny 2, so my darkness may go dark as I live other lives.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Your resident Maladapt.


	4. IV

She was warm, warmer than she ever remembered feeling even on the warmest of days. There was a synergy between the inhalation and exhalation of her breath and what breathed in tandem with her where she lay. That synergy grew the warmth as if it was the sun tending to a summer's garden inside of her. One could only wonder about what would blossom. Her free hand found soft cloth over tender yet firm form. Lithe arms and strong shoulders she dreamed of in her still slumbering state. Shoulders strong enough to keep harboring dark worlds; shoulders strong yet still so careful in their lift. But where was her other arm? It was warm as well, and she felt that breathing of another on it, but it wasn't free for her to move. Her will was weak.

As she was, she felt that gentle April breeze start over her skin, trying to caress her with the warmth a mother's dying words had cursed these lands with. Temptation was in her. She wanted to allow herself to feel it. Just _once_ , allow herself this blessing. To truly feel that residual love and protection as a part of her, whispering along and under her skin. But what more could she do right now? She was warm already about the chest and something stirred just in front of her. Motion: there was a _body_ next to hers. She pulled in her sleep, but she couldn't separate. Something turned in her, a tilt so precarious yet minute that there was no defense in her prepared to stave off the creeping darkness. She was maladapted for such even more so as she slept. A body was _foreign._ Warm, but still so strange to the touch. She didn't want this tilt, the turning in her that made the right into wrong, the comfort into discomfort. An electricity excited and pinched at a nerve she was wont to touch, to try at least, as it was always something she reached for to ignite a calm whenever things went astray. But she wasn't yet with a wakened mind, and that nerve was just a phantom reprieve she liked to believe was there. She pulled away and against the warmth that radiated about her front. It was the cause of an unwanted and reflexive alarm that began to resound in her like church bells even though she didn't want to feel it. She was content here, why must she bend away from that?

_See?_

_The parade of mourners fastened to the coffin,_

_their shoes filled with water, the sky wet with tears._

_Witch, of blood black and grey, between here and there,_

_A schism awaits thee._

_See._

Suddenly, her sister stood alone in the snow before her, rapier drawn yet limp at her side, surrounded by the charred remains of several small buildings. She was certain it was her even though Winter was facing away from her. She could recognize her by her back: the strong and proud poise of someone of sound Being, that lifted her head high to the heavens despite all trials and adversity. She was a lone pillar in their world so torn asunder. Stone lie scattered and blackened amongst the still smoldering wood, remnants of the structures that once stood on the now destroyed ruins leveled to their foundations.

She stood tall surrounded by them, her sister.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized where _this_ was. Wide eyes drifted slowly right in terror, then slowly left to the ruinous scene around her that sparked chaos in her. Even though it was an ashen remnant of what it once was, she could never forget the place of her torture so long ago. A tear rolled silently down her cheek as she brought her gaze back to the form of her sister.. Her right arm was suddenly heavy, and numb, and it weighed her to the ground, knees collapsing into the snow as she grabbed at the burdening appendage with a whimper. She need not be told to know that she had no power here. Winter turned to her, face tear streaked, eyes widening in recognition as she looked upon her kneeling in the snow. The rapier fell from her hand with a clang the reverberated like cannon fire.

"Weiss.."

So long. So _long_ it had been since she had heard that voice call to her. _So long_ she had yearned to hear it again and _again_ as she moved aimlessly through the world. She thought that it shouldn't seem familiar, had even tried and failed to recreate it as best she was able in her daydreams, but it _did_. It was the most familiar tone she had ever lost and found. And in that moment as another tear ran a cold track down her face, she realized that this couldn't be real.

"Weiss!" Winter started for her.

"You're not real," she whispered in disbelief and the apparition halted in its place. "You can't be.. _why are you here?"_ she questioned. _"Why would you be here!"_

"I don't.." Winter seemed confused and.. _lost_ , as though she couldn't comprehend her situation. "We're not here," she finally managed after a moment of collection. "I would never have you return to here!" Agony shone on Winter's face as her eyebrows knitted together, as though she was still trying to make sense of something that would never reveal itself to her. A convincing image it made: her sister was almost just as she remembered her, older now though.

"You _died!_ You _must_ have.." She rejected this vision entirely despite how everything in it touched her senses. She felt the cold, she felt the longing, she felt the distress kneeling in this place buried her under. "You can't _be_ here, you _can't.._ _You_ left me _alone_! With _them!_ "

"That was no desire of my own!" her sister rebelled vehemently, taking another step toward her before she stopped her movements again, a look of profound uncertainty marring her face as she stood just paces away in the snow.

The wind picked up, and a fresh snowfall descended from the sky. In her periphery she saw the snow begin to stir in several places. She whipped her head around and saw corpses rising from the snow like it was only covering shallow graves, bodies mangled, eyes empty and pale, and flesh bitten off by an unnatural cold that had taken their lives without a hint of remorse. They began limping toward her, slowly yet menacingly as moans vacated their soulless mouths and a _foul_ stench carried to her on the wind. She clenched her eyes shut and gripped herself tighter. No, she needn't be told that she had no power here.

"Weiss, you must wake up!" Winter's desperate pleas carried to her through the tangles of stimuli that sought her attention.

"Why won't this stop?" Her voice trembled, barely an audible request of whatever God would listen and take the utmost pity on her. She shivered in the cold that grew in frigidity by the second. Her flesh and bones whined in agony of the tempest that was turning her to stone and her form was bowed over until her brow met the snow.

She didn't want to be here.

She should be asleep in her bed still. She was almost certain of that, but this wasn't the first time she was made to live something that wasn't real. But these.. visions were continuing to grow ever adamant to the extent where she wondered if she'd always come to fall asleep just to end up _here,_ wherever this was beyond rhyme and reason. But there was something that wasn't here, something new that had reminded her of what it was to live in life. Something damaged, by no fault of her own. Something tender, something she could venture to say was pure.

"Ruby?" She was nowhere amongst this cold, but in her awareness she could feel a small ember of warmth that pulled at her sternum. The wind picked up, stealing her concentration away from that which anchored her to her _true_ body. She needed that tie. In this moment, she _needed_ it and it was being deadened by this cursed storm. " _Why won't this stop!"_

The storm ceased its tear at her bellow and the world was hauntingly still around her. The corpses no longer moaned and their shuffling steps had ceased. She quivered in the silence, afraid of what she might see if she lifted her body, or feel if he just stayed small and rigid in the snow. Her right arm ached and was immovable, lacking feeling all along its length. She dared not move.

"Weiss!" A voice before hastened steps grew towards her. "Weiss look at me. _Please."_ She dared not look. She dared not entertain this _insanity,_ this _loss_. A warmth started next to her face in the snow. Warm frantic breaths drifted across her cheek and a familiar voice, gentle and smooth, lovely and caring, attempted to coerce her from her heap. "Weiss.. please look at me.."

She opened her eyes barely, and turned her head ever so slightly to see eyes of such a brilliant and familiar azure that she lost her breath at the sight. Eyes she only ever saw in mirrors, eyes she thought were dead. "Winter." A whimper built in her throat. She reached out to her with shaking limbs, but stopped just before her fingertips were to meet this specter of her longing. She sobbed in the face of that dream that was never meant to be. The corpses fell back dead in the snow. "We can't be here, can we?" Her words came broken and tormented as she stared at her trembling hands. They resumed their reach, coming to roughly clutch the front of her sister's coat and in her disbelief, she ran her thumbs across the cotton fabric.

"We can't.." Winter reached for her and pulled her face up to meet eyes that mirrored her own disbelief. "You _must_ wake up."

"But you won't be _there.."_ she cried.

"No, but I will find you. Do not wait for me in that house, you must leave there. It is not safe for you, for us."

"I have a black dog, don't I?" she asked Winter emptily, still not knowing what it meant when she spoke those words that weren't her own. A darkness pulled at the corners of her vision as she broke eye contact . "I have a black dog.. here, in my head. In my dreams.."

"Weiss, _wake up!"_ Winter begged of her, making her meet her eyes again."You cant stay like this. You _must_ wake up!"

"But I am awake.."

"Weiss?"

Her eyes shot open and the sudden closeness to another in a different shift of her world had her pulling away so violently that she hit the wall next to the bed with a heavy thud. Her breaths came erratically and her vision was wet with tears. She looked frantically around her, the familiarity of her fire lit room at the estate slowly coming into recognition. It was still dark outside, letting her know that she didn't make it through the night. Her eyes slowly began to focus: two chairs, the hanging herbs, dark hair and pale, silver eyes that seemed to glow in the sparse light.

"Weiss what's wron—" Ruby started a she reached a hand toward her to soothe her, but she only felt threatened by the gesture.

" _Don't touch me!"_ she screamed before a harrowing sob left her lips. Ruby retracted her arm from its advance and placed in into her lap as she sat across from her. "Where are we?" she cried in a small, pained voice, unsure of what she could trust from each moment to the next.

"We're in your room," Ruby answered gently, patiently.

"She's not here," her voice trembled.

"It's only me here," Ruby said softly. "And I mean you no harm." Ruby held a hand out palm up with her reassurance, not too close to impose on the distance she wanted for herself, but still within a proximity that was near. Near enough to hold if she wished. "You can take my hand, if you want. Whenever you want, or I can just sit here with you until it has passed." There was a knowing in Ruby's voice, but she wasn't in the right mind to decipher it as such in this present moment.

She said nothing in reply as she cried quietly, save for the intermittent shuddered breath, and just stared solemnly down at Ruby's proffered hand. Her mind reeled as she was unable to distinguish vision from reality, a drawn line that was becoming ever thinner the deeper her _sight_ grew. She could still feel that frigid cold on her despite the fire that slowly grew in the fireplace, despite her feet still being shielded under the mix of her and Ruby's furs, despite the warmth that still cloaked her from the shared sound slumber she was torn from in the night. She could still feel her sister's breath on her cheek, the texture of her coat. Still smell burning wood and hear echoes of the corpse's moans trailing on the wind. She pinched her eyes shut and retracted an arm from around her to shakily seek out Ruby's hand. She found it and immediately the young woman laced their fingers tightly together. All of her walls came crashing down and she was crying openly, arm extended and knees pulled to her chest with sharp breaths over the distant crackle of the fire. She was here, again. _Back_ here, again and the feel of Ruby's flesh on hers was proof of that.

She cried for a long while, exorcising the torment the vision had caused her from her soul as best she could as Ruby just sat with her, holding her hand tightly and occasionally tracing short lines on the back of her hand. She had always been plagued with visions. These visions she had long thought were dreams until they had taken on a precognition and begun to overtake her without remorse in her waking and sleeping states, accompanied by pain or fever and lingering feelings and sensations. It made her fear for a time when her visions and her reality might become one in the same. What would become of her then? What if she had always been dreaming, _would_ always be dreaming? It terrified her to think on it, the potential eventualities of this.. _curse_ that flowed through her veins and _plagued_ her life.

Her breathing had eased, but her breaths still came uneven over her tears. She wiped her eyes and loosed a particularly haggard breath before she made to speak. "She was there.. my sister, and.. dead soldiers. Corpses.. She wanted me to wake up.."

"Your nightmare.. a vision?" Ruby sought.

"I don't know why they come to me, why I must live in them.. They'll take me and I'll never return.." She brought her free hand to her head and pressed into her temple firmly, trying to dislodge the images that still hung in her mind.

"I won't let you stay there," Ruby spoke. "I won't let them keep you where you ought not be."

Her still moistened eyes lifted to meet the pale of the woman's sitting across from her. She never expected that she would be able to take comfort in the company or the touch of another ever again, yet every moment she spent near her grew a trust in her for this woman. Ruby had said before that she meant her no harm, but it was only in this moment that she truly felt that her mind and body were growing to believe it. She bowed her head and lowered her eyes to their joined hands, holding on tighter and moving hers ever so slightly to rest her thumb atop Ruby's.

"Where I ought not be.." Winter said she couldn't stay here, not in this house. She said that it wasn't safe for her here, and she wondered what all truly travelled across these lands where the eye couldn't see. "May I go with you?" she whispered, a barely audible thing. "Will you take me away from this place?"

"You want to leave with me?"

"Yes.. only with you. I don't think they'll ever be another," she confessed vaguely.

"You can," Ruby spoke, starting her lines again, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. "You can leave this place with me."

"Thank you.." was all she could offer at present for proper gratitude. She was unsure of this decision, and knew that she was making it on a whim by blindly trusting in something she didn't know she could believe in.

"There's still a while before the sun rises, do you want to try and sleep?"

" _No,"_ she said forcefully before heaving a sigh. "Not any more, tonight.."

"Okay," Ruby accepted gently. "Weiss.." Ruby started before cutting herself off and biting her lip in uncertainty.

"You can speak, Ruby.."

"What is your magick like? Your Sight.. do you know what kind it is?"

She ruminated on Ruby's question trying to compile an answer from what little she knew of the power that coarsed through her veins. She realized that while she lived with it her entire life, had practiced more in ritual than craft, she didn't know much about what circulated within her. "It.. was passed to me from my Mother. I was still small and coming into my power when she died, when my sister and I had to leave this place... Winter learned more from mother, and I learned more from her: herbology and it magickal uses, draught making, and strengthening the Will. She told me that our magick is intention based, more so than most, and that it is _Grey_."

"You have _Grey Magick_ by nature?" Ruby questioned, a slight edge of disbelief in her tone.

"I believe so," she replied, unsure. "Do you know of it?"

"Not much," Ruby said with a slight shake of her head. "Just that it is rare and.. easily swayed."

"Easily swayed?" She wondered about the implications of that phrase. It was dubious and vague, but stirred in her, menacing in its shroud. "How do you mean?"

"It's the bridge between white and black magic."

"Between good and evil then?"

"No. Good and evil are in the heart of man, not in magick," Ruby corrected. "White magick is by Nature restorative, and black magic is destructive."

"How is magick like mine the bridge then?"

"That bridge is where magick becomes either light or dark" Ruby revealed.

"I don't understand," she said, confusion quick on her tongue. "Magick can also be light or dark?"

"It can, when it goes against Nature and incurs a karmic debt," Ruby stated like it was the simplest thing in the world to understand even as uncertainty lined her face.

"I still don't understand," she repeated with a almost desperate undertone lining her voice.

"'Death can be restored, and life can be destroyed,'" Ruby revealed. "'Not just taken away.' That is where the bridge of _Grey_ magick resides. "

"How do you know all of this?"

"My Uncle taught me some of what he knew, for cautions sake, once I left Vale. After telling me all of this, he told me to never take my magic where it ought not go."

"So I have magic where none ought be?"

"No," Ruby countered. "It is of Nature. It's just.. easily swayed. He called it the Dark Light."

"I.. don't know what to make of this.." Her mind raced with all of these new details of what her magick was, unsure of to what degree she could invest in Ruby's divulgence. Her mind told her to reject it, but her sense told her that this woman wouldn't lead her astray intentionally even if her information was of suspect quality.

"Neither do I," Ruby confessed. "Not much can be gathered or shared openly without fear of the stake," Ruby said sadly. "We live our lives blind, and by the hands of those who grew old enough to teach us.."

"As scattered as it all is.." she lamented at the cusp of knowledge only to be left starving with no bowl from which to feed. What is your magic?" Curiosity stirred in her for Ruby's response. "You said that you can only heal?"

"My magick isn't harmful by Nature," Ruby began, "and it isn't really healing magic either, I've found. I.. can grow things. And sense things, more than most."

"Grow things?"

"One of my earliest memories of it is walking through the forest with my mother when I was younger." Ruby's eyes glossed over a little as she stared at nothing in particular, a small and fond smile blooming on her face. "We stopped and took our shoes off by a pond, and when we began to walk around it, the grass and small flowers began to grow at our feet. She never called it magic outright, to protect us I guess. She just said it was our gift.. I say I can only heal because I've been able to mend scars on trees, and grow back the grass where it had died or been burned away. It doesn't work on human beings. Aside from that, I can perform intention based spells like most others. Usually just my fire spirits to light a fire or light the way," she finished with a smile.

"That sounds like a gift indeed," she spoke. "White magick, it is?"

"It is," Ruby affirmed.

"And Light?"

"It is Light."

"It sounds more a blessing in our world as it is.. than the curse I'm forced to bear in all is glorious ambiguity.."

"You believe your magick to be a curse?"

"Is it not?"

"I," Ruby started, biting her lip again before she continued. "I know the world we live in. I'm not naïve.. I know magick has been used for terrible things, and people's fear drive them against those who have it.. but I can't hold the belief that magick is _wrong_ if it was made to be here. And I refuse to believe a person who claims God hast told them otherwise when God has told no one _anything_."

"Then cursed by Nature I am, rather than by God.. perhaps an even bitter truth if I'm cursed by mindless indifference."

"Something terrible happened to you," Ruby stated quietly causing her to tense. "I know.. your eyes mirror mine in ways, and I feel close to you because of it. But there's something else there, in your eyes, that crosses your face when you sleep.. something sad that I can't begin to understand. Your magick.. _hurts_ you, doesn't it? What you see in your visions?"

"It does," she said softly, lowering her eyes to their still joined hands. "They do.."

"What are they like?"

"They.. come with painful forewarnings, or take me while I sleep," she began. "Make me ill.. They weren't always that way, I remember them more as dreams when I was child, but they became more than that _._ They taste, and smell.. and feel more real now, as real as this very moment.."

"I.. sensed something, when you went away earlier," Ruby confessed. "I sensed it before too, when I first found you.."

"You sense things more than most," she stated remembering Ruby's words from moments ago.

"I do.."

"What did you come to know?"

"..Nothing. I don't have a word to describe it. A separation," Ruby tried, "a.. division? I've brushed against others with _sight,_ and they are either forward or back. You're.. many places, I think. Or no place."

"Your venture is rather astute for lacking a description.." She would be many places, in that darkness, and yet in that place as real a here and now, she would be nowhere to be found. "I shouldn't stay here," she whispered. "There's.. I'm in the way of harm here, despite my Mother's sacrifice.."

"Your mother is in the wind here?" Ruby questioned.

"She is, but that is all she is," she returned. "A gentle breeze that will never touch me.. The storm will pass soon, Ruby?"

"It will."

"And we shall leave?"

"We shall," Ruby confirmed. "Tomorrow midday, we will leave here together."

She looked down at their still joined hands, and in that moment she was a stranger to herself. She had been a battered leaf carried along by the whims of wild and indifferent winds, whipped about with an uncaring that didn't drink from the stream of life. She was a foreigner in her own existence, trailing ghosts and carving a place in the world for herself that she didn't intend to step in. Her motivations lacked for nearly a decade and she crept hollow along the face of the earth. Yet here, she felt herself propelling forward into an unknown that she was aware of, an unknown of _her_ choosing. And where it lead, as she tightened her hold on the hand that held hers, she felt a determination to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please look forward to more.
> 
> All fireflies receive are honored,
> 
> Ivel


End file.
